


lightening riders

by forgetpoundgivemekoenig



Category: Fast & Furious (Movies)
Genre: Alpha Dominic Toretto, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:15:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28803396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forgetpoundgivemekoenig/pseuds/forgetpoundgivemekoenig
Summary: Brian is an Omega working at Harry's parts store when be meets Dom, an Alpha and street racer.Unlike most Omegas, Brian refuses to back down for anyone.Unlike most Alphas, Dom likes this.
Relationships: Brian O'Conner/Dominic Toretto
Comments: 20
Kudos: 172





	lightening riders

**Author's Note:**

> hopefully, the next chapter will be up soon
> 
> I like comments a lot 
> 
> the song lyrics are taken from "Who Owns Who" by Joywave and "Magnets" by Disclosure, respectively 
> 
> title is from "Lightening Riders" by AWOLNATION
> 
> I apologize for any typos or weird spacing, as this was written on my phone 
> 
> sort of beta'd by my husband lmao

_who owns who?_

_if you're asking me, must not be you_

_/_

_smoke and sunset_

_off Mulholland_

_i was wonderin' bout you_

_//_

After spending a few months working his ass off, Brian has finally been promoted to delivery driver. He's practically salivating at the thought of getting behind the wheel again. Harry looks skeptical when he hands him the keys to the company truck. 

"I don't want no speeding tickets on that thing, O'Connor." 

"I know, I know." 

Harry closes his fist around the keys. "You obey stop signs and traffic signals." 

"I see any red I'll stop." Brian reaches for the keys but Harry's fist remains tightly closed. 

"For God's sake, O'Connor, don't lock the keys in the car again. I don't want to have to come and get you."

"Jesus, I'm not an idiot!" Brian explodes. "Do you want me to deliver these parts, or do you want to stand here talkin' all day?"

"Go on," Harry says affably and drops the keys into Brian's open palm. "I'm serious about the speeding tickets. You get one and you're paying for it." 

Brian is already halfway through the door, but he tosses a thumbs up in Harry's direction before it closes. 

// 

True to his word, Brian goes easy on the gas and brakes at (almost) every stop sign. He revels in the smooth feel of the steering and the low, rumbling power of the engine. It's been years since he's driven, but it's as natural as breathing. He feels lighter than he has in a while after just a few minutes. Too bad there's only a single delivery for the day. A large one containing mostly modding parts. The total must have been in the thousands and Harry mentioned that they were a loyal customer. Whoever they are, they're spending more on parts than Brian could even begin to dream about. 

Flipping on his turn signal, he takes a left into a residential street lined with mid-sized houses. He peers at the mailboxes looking for numbers and swears when he nearly drives by the place he's looking for. 

Contrary to what Harry had told him, there's no one waiting in the driveway. Brian parks the truck and reaches in his pocket for the slip of paper with the address written on it. Maybe he's at the wrong place? He squints at the mailbox to confirm the house number. He's definitely got the right house. Toretto must not have gotten the memo to be waiting. 

Which leaves Brian with two options: he can leave without delivering the parts, or he can knock on the door and confirm that no one's home. If no one's home, then he can return to Harry's knowing that he did the best he could. 

Sure, Harry had ordered him not to leave the car under any circumstances. The way Brian sees it, there's no way for his boss to know that he did. It's a victimless crime. 

Feeling more sure of his decision, he steps out of the truck. The driveway is short and there are three, small steps up to the front door. All he has to do is knock, wait for someone to answer, and then get back in the truck. Harry won't ever have to know. He practically swaggers up the driveway, confident in his ability to get the job done. When he knocks on the door, he only has to wait a few seconds for an answer. He takes a step down as the front door swings open. 

"Can I help you?" Brian is a little surprised when a woman answers the door. Toretto's girlfriend? He offers her a broad smile which she doesn't return. 

"I'm here to deliver some stuff. Is Dominic Toretto here?" 

The woman turns to call over shoulder. "Dom! You have a delivery!" When she turns back, she gives Brian a shy grin. "I haven't seen you before. Are you new?" 

"New to deliveries." 

"Well, New to Deliveries. I'm Mia." She leans against the door jamb, more relaxed, and folds her arms. "Mia Toretto." 

"Brian O'Connor." 

"Would you like to come in, Brian O'Connor?" Noticing Brian's hesitation, Mia cocks her head towards the open doorway. "We have the AC on high. It's awful hot out today, and you can get some water." 

And, damn, if that isn't tempting. The truck's AC has been on the fritz and the temperature is well into the 90s. Harry's been promising to fix it for the last 3 months but never has the time. Brian would just fix it himself except it's an old truck and he can't get his hands on the parts. Giving in, he follows Mia into the cool interior of the house. As promised, the AC is blasting full force. Brian almost moans in relief at the feeling. He hardly notices an undercurrent in his scent, something below the overwhelming smell of sweat, as Mia hands him a full glass of water. She offers him a seat at the table and he sinks down gratefully. They watch each other across the small kitchen. There's something in Mia's eyes that has Brian looking down at the table. He takes a drink from the water. 

"You from California?" Mia asks casually. 

"I'm from all around." He sets the glass down on the table. "You?" 

"I've lived here my entire life." Her nose scrunches again and Brian tries to give himself a subtle sniff. He can only smell sweat and that same, undefinable something underneath. 

"Thanks for the water," he says lamely. 

"Always be nice to th delivery drivers," Mia says with a smile. "My parents taught me that." 

They fall silent. Brian finishes his water and hands Mia the glass when she reaches for it. It's clear that she's avoiding something, but he can't figure out what. He watches her closely as she refills the glass at the sink. 

"Dom should be down soon. He's in a meeting with the pack." 

"How many are there?" Brian's uneasiness becomes something akin to fear at the mention of a pack. He should have listened to Harry, dammit, instead of done a dumb shit think like walking into a strange pack's house. 

"Letty, Jesse, Vince, and Leon." 

"And Dom's the Alpha?" Brian strains to sound casual, but Mia's gaze is intense as she hands him the full glass. 

"He is." 

Alarm bells are blaring in the back of his head. He takes a long drink of water to give himself a few seconds to think. He can feel Mia's eyes on him and it's all he can do not to bolt back to the truck and it's relative safety. 

He knows what he smelled earlier. 

The cheap scent blockers that he uses are starting to wear off. 

The sweat must have neutralized them. Fuck, why didn't he just stay in the damn car? 

Harry's never going to let him on another delivery. He'll be damn lucky if he's allowed to leave the stock room after this. 

He'll be damn lucky if he gets out of this place. 

Gulping the rest of the water, Brian slams the glass on to the table with more force than he'd meant. The noise makes Mia jump and he hurries to apologize.

Before be can get the words out, though, another voice cuts in. 

Deep and full of the low rumble that Brian can only compare to the sound of a well-tuned engine. It causes a shivery feeling to run up his spine and into his limbs. 

"Who's your friend, Mia?" 

"Dom!" Mia jumps to her feet with a frantic look at Brian. "This is Brian O'Connor. He's a delivery driver for Harry's." 

"Harry sent him?" Dom sounds equal parts annoyed and skeptical. Brian registers the jibe and his temper flares. Typical Alpha bullshit. He turns to face the Alpha with his hands clenched into fists. Harry be damned, he'll fight his way out of this place if he has to. 

"You don't think an Omega can do this job?" He spits. The Alpha observes him with an unreadable expression. 

A part of Brian's brain notes that Toretto is an incredibly large and muscled man who could easily overpower him. Another part of his brain thinks that he would really love to be overpowered. He pushes both of those thoughts to the back of his mind.

"I never said that." Toretto folds his arms and Brian tries not to notice what it does to those biceps. "I know Harry, and I know that he has more sense than to send someone on a delivery smelling like you do." 

Brian can feel his face coloring. "I'm wearing blockers! They just don't work when I sweat." Unconsciously, he brings a hand up to rub at the sweat on his neck. Toretto visibly stiffens as the motion causes Brian's scent to grow stronger. Brian curses and drops his hand. He can see Mia in his peripheral vision and takes comfort in that fact. 

"You need to leave." Toretto's voice is tight. He steps away from the kitchen doorway and Brian knows that he should leave, but he can't go back to Harry without delivering the parts. If he does, then there's no way to hide the fact that he disobeyed his boss. Thinking about stocking shelves for the rest of his life has him calling after the Alpha. 

"What about your delivery?" 

"What about it?" Toretto snaps and Brian is aware of Mia edging closer to the Alpha. "Someone can bring it by tomorrow."

By someone, Brian knows that Toretto really means "not you." 

"Come on, it's right here! Look, I can sit in the car while you unload it all. I'll keep the windows rolled up and everything. I just can't go back to Harry with it, or he'll never let me make another delivery." 

Toretto is silent for a long time. Finally, he rolls his eyes to the ceiling and releases a long sigh.

Then he levels his eyes at Brian and another one of those shivery feelings runs it's way through Brian's body at the _intensity_ of it.

"You better stay in the goddamn car." 

// 

Harry is suspicious when Brian returns nearly two hours later, but doesn't press him. He accepts Brian's lie that Mia was the only one home with a wave of the hand. Not believing his luck, Brian happily sweeps the stock room and cleans the staff bathroom. 

Harry gives him a ride to his small apartment as usual. On the way, they fall into their usual debate about foreign cars versus American Muscle. Brian has always loved foreign rides since he learned how to drive. Harry, born in the 60's, tells him that he's full of shit. 

When they pull up to the apartment building, they say their goodbyes. Brian is nearly to the door when Harry calls his name.

"Yeah?" 

"Toretto called." 

Brian tenses. "Oh, yeah?" 

"You're on stock duty for the rest of the week." 

"Yeah, yeah." 

// 

Brian's license had been revoked when he was caught drag racing in his dad's car at 17. He should have done jail time, but the judge had deemed that an unreasonable for an underage Omega. His parents had been relieved, but Brian had seethed on the ride home. Who were they to tell him that he was too weak? Who were they to judge what he could and couldn't handle? 

The loss of his license meant more than just losing the right to drive. His parents had been slowly pulling back on his reins, growing stricter and stricter, and losing his license was the final piece of the puzzle. They were too busy to drive him back and forth to a job, even a part-time deal bagging groceries, so he couldn't work. If he wanted to go on a date, they had to pre-approve the person; if they didn't approve, then they wouldn't drive him. 

He finished high school, but college wasn't necessary for an Omega. 

The final straw came when he found an acceptance letter to a well known, and far away, University in the trash. That night he packed a bag and ran. 

Unable to afford the tuition, and with law enforcement searching for a missing Omega, he had to abandon his dream of earning a degree. Instead, he'd spent months evading the police and searching for a decent place to settle down. It was long and hard, made harder by the need for suppressants and scent blockers. Doctors were skeptical of a young, unmated Omega seeking a prescription. He'd become a decent liar and learned a variety of skills, but he wouldn't go back to that life for all the money in the world. 

His lucky break had come when he'd wandered into Harry's parts store looking for a job. Harry had been easy to talk to and had avoided any hard questions. When Brian had admitted his status, the older man had waved his hand and accepted the fact. Within a week, Brian had earned his place at the store and the respect of its owner. A majority of the staff were college students who worked part-time or in-between semesters. They came and went, but Brian stayed on. He and Harry became friends and then more like father and son. Unlike Brian's actual father, Harry allowed him his freedom and his personal space. It was Harry who found the tiny, cheap apartment and bullied the landlord into taking Brian on as a tenant despite his status. 

He owes a lot to Harry, but damn if doesn't hate the man some times.

It's been three weeks and, despite his promise that he would take Brian off of stock duty after one, he still hasn't let Brian take another delivery. Instead, he sends one of the part-timers or goes himself. Brian is itching to get back behind the wheel. Harry had managed to get him a license for his 21st birthday, but Brian rarely has the opportunity to use it. He can't afford a car on his salary and Harry, the old bastard, doesn't trust him around his old Ford Mustang. 

It's been a particularly busy day and Brian has been restocking shelves at a near constant pace. The NOS is selling fast which means that there's a race coming up -- a thought that has Brian nearly in tears. There's no way he can convince Harry to take him because, despite selling to racers, the man is convinced that racing is a sin against the gods of all things automotive. And there's no way he can track down a race by himself. 

He's miserably stacking product on the shelves when Harry comes up behind him. He watches Brian work for a moment before breaking the silence.

"The AC is working in the truck." 

"That AC is shit, man. You need to replace it with a newer system." 

Harry harrumphs. "It's not worth wasting money on that piece of shit truck." 

There's a pause. 

"You busy?" 

Brian sets the last item on the shelf and stands up. "Got something for me to do?" 

"Got a delivery, if you wanna take it." 

"Hell, I'd go pick up your lunch if it got me back in the driver's seat." 

"Take it, then." He hands Brian the keys to the truck, but stops him from running with a hand on his shoulder. "Listen to me, O'Connor: no speeding, no blowing stop signs, and, for God's sake, stay in the goddamn car." 

"I know, I know." 

"I don't want another call from Toretto tellin' me how my delivery driver was smellin' up the whole damn neighborhood." 

"I won't get out of the car. I won't even roll the window down." 

"You better mean it this time, or I swear to Jesus Christ himself you'll be doing stock duty for the rest of your life." Harry releases his grip on Brian's shoulder work a friendly squeeze. "Go before so change my mind." 

Brian doesn't have to be told twice.

// 

When Brian pulls into the Toretto driveway, Dom is waiting for him. He gives Brian a two-fingered salute which Brian returns. 

Dom is just as good looking as Brian remembers. He watches appreciatively as Dom strides across the driveway and up the steps to the door. He disappears inside for a few minutes and, when he returns, there are four more people with him. The rest of the pack, Brian assumes. 

The four set to work while Dom watches. They make quick work of unloading the parts, laughing and complaining as they do. The woman, Letty, glances at Brian with more than a little interest and says something to Dom. Dom's eyes flick to Brian and then away. He doesn't respond to Letty's comment and she shrugs before walking away. 

It feels strange to watch through the windshield while they work and talk around him. Brian finds his eyes wandering to the small garage as he imagines what could be in there. American Muscle, like Harry would prefer? Dom strikes him as the type. Selfishly, he hopes that the car is red. Dom would look damn good driving a red car. Hell, the man would look good driving anything. He'd make the company truck look like the hottest ride in the world. Brian fiddles with the AC controls, biting his lip hard when Dom stalks by carrying a couple of NOS containers. His muscles are clearly defined underneath his sweat soaked tee and Brian can just imagine running his hand down the Alpha's back. 

From this relatively tame image, Brian's mind wanders to images of Dom behind the wheel, hands greasy from working on an engine. He pushes it a bit further, testing the feeling, to those big hands pressing him on to the hood of something red and fast. He can feel the engine churning beneath him with a barely constrained power... 

Unbelievably hot, he squirms in the seat and barely bites back a moan. So absorbed in what's proving to be a delicious fantasy, he doesn't notice that Dom has moved to stand beside the driver's side window until he knocks. Cheeks flaming, he cracks the window an inch. 

"Everything all right?" 

Dom's face is impossible to read. "We're done unloading." 

"Okay." 

They stare at each other. Brian can feel his cheeks warming again and scrambles for something to say. 

"Thanks." 

"Are you going to rat on me again?" The words are out of his mouth before he can register that Dom has just thanked him. Dom quirks a brow at him in what Brian hopes is amusement. It's hard to tell with the Alpha. 

"For what?" 

"I wasn't supposed to open the window." 

Dom laughs and Brian's heart skips a beat. Jesus Christ, but the man's voice _does things_ to him. Very, very good things. 

Too good. 

Dangerously good. 

He would roll over and beg just to hear that voice telling him all the ways that he's going to be bent over and fucked. 

Oh, _god_. 

He bites back another moan and shifts in his seat. 

"You all right, O'Connor?" 

Brian struggles to sound natural. "Just a little hot." 

Dom gives him an odd look, but thankfully doesn't press him. Instead, he indicates the inch wide opening at the top of the window. "I wouldn't count that as breaking the rules." 

"Thanks, man." Growing increasingly more embarrassed the longer he looks at Dom, Brian rolls up the window and puts the car in reverse. He's sure he only barely avoids running over Dom's foot as he backs out of the driveway. Breathing heavily, he swears at his reflection in the rearview mirror. 

He takes a second to calm down before be enters the store. When Harry asks him how the delivery went, he says something non-committal. 

Harry knows better than to ask. 

// 

The thing is that Brian doesn't want an Alpha. He doesn't even really need one. 

He's expected to be submissive, to be a homemaker. He's expected to crave stability and someone to care for him. 

He was born wrong, somehow. He’s got a stubborn streak a mile wide and a tendency to swing first and ask questions later. He craves fast cars and rough edges. He prefers hard over soft. He’s never been able to ask for anything— he wants to work for what he has. 

He’d sooner die than take orders, or insults, from anyone.   
  
It’s for these reasons and more that he’s currently standing in the stock room, knuckles bruised, seething and waiting for Harry to give him a ride home.   
  
He’s taken plenty of shit for his status, but he’ll be damned if he takes it with a smile and a few deep breaths. 

The Beta hadn’t expected for Brian to swing, which had given Brian an advantage in what had proven to be a very quick fight. The other guy hadn’t even had the chance to swing before Harry had pulled Brian off, still swinging, and sent him to the back.

Brian can hear his boss yelling, but the words are muffled. Even if they weren’t, he’s still too keyed up to concentrate. He paces restlessly around the room to the tune of his jumbled, rage filled thoughts. 

An Omega bitch. 

_Toretto’s_ Omega bitch. 

Brian’s teeth are clenched and he makes an effort to loosen his jaw. He flexes his fingers just to make the bruises ache that much more. 

If the man had called him anything else, he would have laughed it off. He works with street racers, for fuck’s sake, he can handle being called a few names. It’s a necessary part of the job. Hell, he likes slinging insults back and forth with the customers. They expect him to give it as good as he gets it. 

But that bastard had _known_ what Brian was. He had known and he had used it against Brian in a dumb fucking attempt to assert some dominance. 

And it’s obvious who he’d heard it from. 

Brian aims a vicious kick at a nearby wall and hardly notices the burst of pain when it connects. To think that he’d trusted Toretto. To think that he’d believed, stupidly, that the Alpha respected him. In the month following his embarrassing second delivery, he had gone to Toretto's twice more. Both times, he and Torreto had spent a few minutes talking cars. Like Brian had pictured, Toretto was an American Muscle man. They had argued over the merits of the Alpha's Dodge Charger and Torreto had offered to let him see it in action. 

Stupidly, Brian had assumed the offer was made out of respect. Now he understands the Toretto had just wanted to impress him enough to get in his pants. 

The realization is made worse by the fact that Brian would have _liked_ to see what Toretto could offer. Fuck, most of his fantasies lately have centered on Toretto. And they were damn good ones, too.

Growling, Brian kicks the wall again.The pain is a welcome distraction to the red rage filling his head, and to the shame that he’s never been able to shake.

He kicks again, then again, then several times in a row. He kicks to ignore the tears welling in his eyes and the overwhelming need to collapse or explode. He kicks until he’s sure he won’t be able to walk on his right foot for a week. 

And then, finally, his thoughts begin to settle like silt at the bottom of a lake. One thought, impossible to ignore, rises to the surface and solidifies. 

He’s going to settle things with Toretto.

If the man doesn’t respect him, then Brian will prove that he’s worthy of respect. Whether he loses the fight or wins, Toretto will have to see him as an equal for trying. 

And, admittedly, he wants nothing more than to land a square one right on Toretto’s jaw. 

He'll take whatever Toretto can give him and more. He'll throw it back in the motherfucker's face. 

Determined and not willing to take no for an answer, he's searching for the keys to the truck when Harry steps in to give him the all clear. Brian looks him in the eye and sees defeat written in the set of the older man's jaw. 

"I know you think that you gotta prove somethin' to Toretto, but, Brian, I can't afford to have you killed." 

"I can hold my own against Toretto." 

Harry's expression is skeptical, but he wisely doesn't press the issue. "I'm drivin'. Mad as you are, you'll be pulled over or flipped over before you get there." 

"Fine." 

"Well," Harry considers Brian's obvious limp and shrugs. "I guess we oughtta go." 

"Yeah," Brian agrees. "I guess we should." 

//

Brian is out of the car and halfway up the drive when Toretto opens the door with a half-smile on his face. The smile quickly fades when he notices Brian limping. 

"You okay, Brian?" 

Brian ignores the question in favor of shoving the Alpha squarely in the chest. Toretto stumbles backwards a step but keeps his footing. “What the hell are you doing, O’Connor?” 

"You think I’m your bitch, huh, Toretto?” Brian growls. Taking the advantage, he swings his fist widely. Toretto dodges the swing and grabs Brian by the front of the shirt. Twisting, Brian manages to dress himself and quickly brings his fist up for another shot at Toretto's jaw. He's vaguely aware of Harry calling his name. This is one fight Harry won't be getting in between.

“Come on, Toretto, why don’t you show me what a bitch I am!" 

Toretto looks equal parts enraged and perplexed ”I ain’t gonna fight you.” He dodges another wild swing and makes a grab for Brian's wrist. Brian catches him off guard with another shove. Torreto stumbles back another step. 

There's blood pounding in Brian's ears and his foot is a constant, throbbing ache. 

“ _Come on_!” 

"Get back in the car, O'Connor." 

“ _Fuck_ you!” This time, his fist connects with a solid _thud_. Toretto reels back, shocked, before turning on Brian with an unconcealed fury. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Brian registers that he’s in over his head. When Toretto’s fist lands, driving all of the air out of his lungs, he wonders if he’s made a mistake. Time seems to stop as his body tries to catch up with the pain that's sure to come. He goes down clutching his stomach and gasping for breath. Toretto looms over him with the same perplexed look as before on his face. 

The world is blurring, but Brian can see Toretto’s mouth moving. Sluggishly, his brain registers the words. 

“Are you done?”

Angry at himself for going down so easily, but even angrier at Toretto, Brian struggles to his feet and holds up his fists. His stomach aches fiercely, but he tries to concentrate on Toretto’s jaw. A bruise is already beginning to form where Brian’s fist had landed. “Do I look done to you?” 

“You looked done the second you got out of that car,” Toretto says. There’s danger in his eyes and steel in his voice. “You looked done the second you walked up to _my_ fuckin’ house and picked a fight.” 

“You called me —“ 

“I never called you anything! You think I give a fuck about you? Some dumb Omega working at a parts store?” Toretto laughs but it’s humorless. “You don’t know shit about me, sweetheart. So, get back in the car and go. _Now_.”

It could be the way that Toretto says “dumb Omega,” like this was all some status typical hissy fit. It could be the way he calls Brian “sweetheart.” It could be the command at the end, so typical of an Alpha when handling an Omega. 

It could be pure, pain driven lunacy on Brian's part. 

Whatever the trigger, the result is the same. 

Hauling back, Brian lays a slap across Toretto’s face that has tears springing to the Alpha’s eyes. His palm burns from the impact but he can't bring himself to care. Time seems to slow, then stop, before throttling back. Finally, he has Torreto's attention. The man gives him a shocked look and Brian, unable to look him in the eyes, drops his gaze. Shame burns through him, but be forces himself to speak. All of the fight has left him and he can feel every bruise acutely. 

"Tell me why someone I’ve never met just called me an Omega bitch. Tell me why he called me _your_ Omega bitch.” 

"I wouldn't know anything about that." 

"Bullshit!" Brian glances up to see Toretto glaring at a point somewhere to the left of him. "You think I'm just some dumb Omega, fine, but you crossed a line." 

Toretto's jaw is set. He refuses to look at Brian, which suits the other man just fine. "I was tryin' to help you out. An Omega makin' deliveries to a buncha guys like me. It ain't safe." 

"I don't need your help." 

"You should be thanking me." When Brian scoffs, Toretto gives him an offended look. "You're a real piece of work, O'Connor. You know that?" 

" _I'm_ a piece of work? You've been tellin' everyone that I belong to you, and _I'm_ a piece of work?" 

"Yeah, _you're_ a piece of work." Toretto steps closer and Brian takes a step back. Unsteady, he's almost grateful when the Alpha grabs a fistful of his shirt. At least it keeps him from falling on his ass. "I never said you were mine. I never said you were anyone's." 

"What the hell did you say, then? Did you ask them to send me flowers?" 

Toretto releases his shirt and Brian, wobbly on his hurt foot, falls on his ass. For the second time, he's forced to look up as the Alpha stands over him. Somehow, it's worse this time. 

"Take him home, Harry." 

Giving Brian one last look, Toretto turns and walks back into the house. The door slams. 

Harry offers him a hand up, which Brian ignores. He struggles to his feet and winces at the pain that spikes across his body. 

"I'm real glad he didn't kill ya, O'Connor."

Brian wishes that he could agree, but he can't. He just fucking can't. 


End file.
